When we say the Shehecheeyanu, we celebrate a moment of meaning, a moment we are privileged to experience, a moment of fulfilled promise. While we have not yet seen this New Year which began a few minutes ago fulfill its promise for us or for the world, the potential opportunity to see that promise fulfilled is one which we should not take lightly. Thus, we say the shehecheeyanu for having been granted the opportunity to greet the new year and all of its possibilities.

Something occurred to me about the Shehecheeyanu this year. I�m not sure exactly when but at one point after many, many years of saying the blessing, it dawned on me how odd it is that the shehecheeyanu is only said in the plural.

I know that many of our liturgical texts are rendered in the plural so as to encourage community and, in fact, the Rabbis of the tradition occasionally changed texts from other sources -- including the Tanach, the Bible -- shifting them from singular to plural to remind us of that importance of community. But the Shehecheeyanu, a prayer that marks the arrival at a significant moment, is always said in the plural whether that moment is shared by everyone, as it is this evening, or by an individual.

We always say it in the plural to acknowledge God for keeping us alive, sustaining us, and bringing us to this day.

While we can look at this as a celebration of community, let me share with you this evening a text which gives a different slant on why we always say the sheheyanu in the plural.

The text has its roots in the story of Joseph. After so many years of deception in which Joseph disguised himself and orchestrated his brothers� lives by providing them food and by taking his younger brother Benjamin as a prisoner, Judah, the spokesman for the brothers, pours out his heart to Joseph and describes in great detail their father�s sorrow at the loss of one son and how the loss of Benjamin would devastate him.

Joseph can not keep his feelings inside any longer and says: "I am Joseph. Ha�od Avi Chai?" Is my father still alive?

The question seems out of place. After all, Judah has just told Joseph that his father was still living but, according to the commentaries, Joseph is not sure that this is true. He suspects Judah�s speech might have been a ploy for sympathy. Now Joseph asks straightforwardly, "Is my father still alive?" And, interestingly enough, the brothers can not answer him. They are so shocked by Joseph�s revelation.

But Jacob, of course, is alive; he and Joseph have a lovely, touching reunion leaving only the question as to why Joseph never tried to contact his father during the years he was in Egypt.

There is, however, another slant to this story offered by a Rabbi in the Talmud. Rabbi Nachman is sitting at a meal with Rabbi Yitzchak, and he asks his mentor if he would share a word of Torah with him. Rabbi Yitzchak, in a blow for every Rabbi who would ever follow, says: "I learned from Rabbi Yochanan not to teach Torah while eating, lest you choke." In other words: "Let me eat in peace and then I�ll do my job".

When he finishes, Rabbi Yitzchak quotes Rabbi Yochanan again. He says to Rabbi Nachman: You know of course that Jacob, our father, never died. This statement is apparently based on the realization by the Rabbis that the Torah never actually uses the word "died" in connection with Jacob. Rabbi Nachman -- not one to be tied to such literalism -- notes that the Torah talked about Jacob being buried and embalmed, and that his children mourned for him which is fairly strong evidence.

But Rabbi Nachman has something else in mind. He quotes a verse from Jeremiah in which the prophet assures the people that they will be redeemed and their children also will be saved; and, says Nachman, this shows that there is a connection between ancestors and descendants. As long as the descendants are alive their ancestors are, in one sense, alive.

And now perhaps you can understand better a very simple song, one that our people have been singing for years. The words are Am Yisrael Hai, the people of Israel live. The second phrase of the song -- od avinu hai, "our father still lives" -- refers to our ancestor Jacob. As long as we live as Jews, as long as we gather in community, as long as we reach out to our creator, as long as we keep kosher, as long as we observe Shabbat, as long as we give tzedaka, as long as we do all of the things we do as Jews, Jacob our father and all of our ancestors live on. So when we say the sheheyanu, responding to some critical event in our lives in a Jewish way, they too live. We can never say the shehecheeyanu in the singular. There are too many souls kept alive by our saying the bracha to possibly say it in the singular.

Early in the morning on the third day of our Congregation trip to Israel, after everyone had gotten used to the time change and survived jet lag, I asked everyone to consider the Hebrew word Hineni: "Here I am." It is a word used in the Torah to indicate that I am here and ready to fulfill a commandment. Abraham said it when God approached him about the Akedah, Moses said it at the burning bush, and the farmer said it upon bringing the first fruits to the Temple as God had commanded. I asked the group to keep in mind that word Hineni, and to find the one place (or two, three or four places) which they felt was the place that made them shout out "Hineni." I have come to the land. I am here. I have arrived and I understand the impact of my being here, and I want God, our ancestors, whomever, to see me standing in this place because this is the place of greatest meaning.

That trip to Israel meant a lot to me for so many reasons. One of them certainly was that after all of the lies and the out-of-context statements and all of the horrendous slander that Israel has undergone in this community, it was a pleasure to stand there with so many of our Beth Israel friends and remember how blessed we are that this State, with all of its blessings -- and even given its faults and disappointments -- is such a factor in our lives. Perhaps it is not an exaggeration to say that we are as alive as a people as we are because it is alive.

But one doesn�t have to go to Israel to say hineni. One can say it in any place.

So my message to you, on this first night of this New Year: find the one or two or three places and times this year when you can stand up and say to God, to our ancestors to our community, Hineni. I am here. I am answering the call. I am making the most of my life as a Jew. I am responding to a commandment. I am standing up for my people. I am doing something that reflects my faith in the common image of God that every human being shares. I am working for tikkun olam. Find those moments when you are everything that you can be as a Jew and as a mentsch and then say out loud the sheheyanu, the blessing of fulfilled promise. When you do, though, say it in the plural because even if you are alone, you have not only kept yourself alive, you have kept alive our ancestors who live on because of our fulfilled commitments.

Am Yisrael Hai. Od Avinu Hai.

When we take actions of this kind, when we can stand up and say Hineni -- I am here as a Jew and as a mentsch -- our ancestors live on and our descendants will more likely do the same. And that will keep us alive as well, long after our years on this earth have ended and it is left to others to say the shehecheeyanu in our name.

Robert Dobrusin, Rabbi
Copyright © 2007, Robert Dobrusin.
Permission is granted for distribution of this message providing that it is distributed in its entirety and with full attribution, including this copyright statement.

This message was originally posted on October 9, 2007.

Please send comments or suggestions to Rabbi Robert Dobrusin.